


Bad Days and Good

by flightinflame



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 23:10:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4854179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/pseuds/flightinflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There had once been a clear line between good and bad days.  Now, things were more confusing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Days and Good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShadowHaloedAngel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowHaloedAngel/gifts).



There had been a time when things had been easy. When it had made sense, when Bucky had understood his purpose and Steve had fought against it. When a bad day meant one where there wasn't enough food, when they would curl up under the covers together and Bucky would rub Steve's back until the worst of the coughing stopped. When a bad night meant Steve shaking with a fever, and Bucky sitting up holding him and praying he'd make it through.

Then, well, the war had come. A bad day had meant traipsing through mud in the middle of some god forsaken field in Europe, and a bad night had meant Steve waking Bucky up because he'd been screaming so loudly he'd woken half the camp. When their roles had blurred, with Steve becoming the hero he always was, and Bucky had struggled with nightmares.

Soldier didn't understand enough to distinguish bad days from good, and bad nights from worse. He was a weapon, and weapons didn't have luck. At the end, they were cleaned and records destroyed to stop any superstition building. Beneath the ice, Steve became the hero of the world, and he became a nightmare.

It was complicated now. A bad day could mean a fight that didn't go their way, could mean Steve coming in from a mission bruised and beaten, or it could mean Bucky seeing someone who looked too familiar. It could be a panic attack when out running, or a mistake in the menu that meant Bucky spent most of the evening being sick. Bad nights were just called nights now. 

Steve would try and exhaust himself in the gym, would beat his hands bloody given half the chance, so Bucky had to be the adult, had to be the one to pull him away from it before he got hurt, to wrap around him and murmur praise and reassure him that it would all work out in the end. Steve would nod and pretend to be alright, and Bucky would smile and pretend to agree with him, and they would go to bed.

Bucky didn't like beds. But he liked laying next to Steve, having him close enough that he could grab hold of, so they'd worked something out. The bedding beneath them was a material Stark had had shipped over from Europe, a strong texture to it that Bucky could feel against his skin. If Steve woke him now, he knew he was safe.

Steve's nightmares woke them most nights, and Bucky's woke them on almost all. Bucky would sit up, shaking and screaming and fighting until he was hoarse, or until he froze, and either one of them broke Steve's heart. Steve would wrap his arms around him and pull him close, stroke his hair and murmur softly to him until he relaxed a little bit.

It had been three years since Cap woke up. One year since he'd found out Bucky still was alive, six months since they'd been reunited. Each of these dates was etched into Steve's mind. Bucky still hadn't talked much, but what little he had said made Steve dread learning more. 

Steve was tired, but he stayed awake, watching as Bucky shifted awkwardly against him. It took him a long time to get comfortable. Eventually his eyes closed, and Steve started to count. Experience taught him that if he could get to two thousand without Bucky starting to panic, there was a good chance that Bucky would sleep for at least a couple of hours.

One thousand nine hundred and ninety eight, one thousand nine hundred and ninety nine, two thousand. Steve let himself fall asleep, making himself hold still. Any sleep Bucky could get was too precious for him to disturb with nightmares. Some days that was motivation enough to stay awake, but right now he needed to rest. He took some slow breaths, and closed his eyes.

He was woken to the sensation of warm lips brushing against his cheek. Slowly his eyes flickered open and he smiled, seeing Bucky laying beside him. Bucky's eyes were still shadowed, but there was a softness to his gaze that Steve had nearly forgotten.  
"Buck?" He asked softly. Bucky smiled and shook his head.  
"You slept through." Bucky murmured, and Steve's heart felt like it was soaring.

Six months after they met once more, the two of them were able to start having bad nights, because finally not every moment was a nightmare. It was taking time, but they were beginning to build something good, and learning to sleep once more in each other's arms.


End file.
